“God fits some especially to catch passing joys, Ichabod.”
“Yea, and it all comes from a serene faith that all is very good as He made it. I’m just opening to the Sun Eternal, at whose right hand are pleasures evermore. I love thy wakening touch, my guide.”
“Ah, I’m a bungling player on the harp of thy soul, but I love thy melody. Child of nature, speak more and more to me.”
“I can but ill tell all. I’m dumb amid the waves of peace which enhalo, the hopes that thrill, the views of truth that fill my being.”
“I believe thee on my soul, Jew. I’d stop now to remember a little, perhaps to sleep, since so I can follow dreams that would craze me to contemplate awake; but if we now sleep, pray God our day-dreams go on and on. I think we are pilgrims following spiritual truths. They’ll lead us on high; let’s not miss their direction.”
“One may sleep, master, when he can not think; for me, now, I’d rather court, awake, my mind’s guests, for a time, meanwhile gainsaying the lullabys of cricket and nightingale now floating out from every bush.”
“So be it. How shall we proceed to pass the time?”
“Can we set up an Ebenezer? God hitherto hath helped us.”
“I have it; we’ll to the feast.”
“Well, we have what some great kings have not, and so shall find joy in a feast. We have appetite!”